


Aid and Comfort

by Laylah



Category: Final Fantasy XII
Genre: Action/Adventure, Battle, Multi, Video Game Mechanics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-10-16
Updated: 2008-10-16
Packaged: 2017-10-12 17:41:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/127359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laylah/pseuds/Laylah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ashe sees Vossler staggering backward before she hears the roaring, before the sands part enough to make their foe visible: a wild saurian, likely disoriented and far from its own hunting grounds, maddened by the sandstorm and lashing out in fear and rage both.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aid and Comfort

The reconnaissance went well, or at least Ashe thinks it did from the set of Vossler's shoulders and the confidence in Basch's step, and the return to base seems to be going smoothly, too, at first. They've made their way through one of the narrow passes that separate the two great plains of Dalmasca's sands -- it's easier to track the empire's movements from the east, but the west is where they can find shelter, in the network of caverns under the desert. But the wind picks up on the western side of the pass, dust and sand swirling around them in a thickening cloud. Ashe pulls her head scarf across her face, watches Basch and Vossler do likewise with their cloaks.

"We must make for shelter!" Basch calls, raising his voice to be heard over the rising wind. "The storm will rouse the entites."

"This way," Vossler answers, bearing right along the cliff face. Ashe and Basch follow. Out here they both defer to him, to the desert in his blood, in his bones. If there is shelter to be found nearby, Vossler will find it.

But not, this time, before trouble finds them.

Ashe sees Vossler staggering backward before she hears the roaring, before the sands part enough to make their foe visible: a wild saurian, likely disoriented and far from its own hunting grounds, maddened by the sandstorm and lashing out in fear and rage both. Ashe draws her sword as her knights do likewise, and she sees Basch toss Vossler a potion in a smooth, almost automatic movement.

The saurian takes all her attention after that. There are two ways it attacks: with lunges of the broad, muscular head, jaws snapping, and with sweeps of the long, heavy tail. The first are easier to avoid, easier to turn the scrape of those teeth with the proper angle of a shield; the second one can only hope to dodge. Vossler parries the needy, clicking fangs and strikes out, bringing his greatsword up below its jaw to gouge the poorly-armored flesh there. Ashe and Basch range themselves on either side of him, and Ashe tries to keep her wits about her, tries to remember the lessons she's had: strike at the creases of its limbs, where it hide will be thinnest, and ever be on guard against its attacks.

Vossler is taking the brunt of its fury, having first drawn its attention, and Ashe tries to fight down the anger, the fear that lies beneath it -- he is here, he and Basch both, to protect _her_ , and neither of them begrudges it for a moment, even if she does at times. And in the next instant the anger becomes moot as the saurian rears back, swings its massive head around and lunges for her.

Ashe raises her shield but not quickly enough, not turned as it should be to deflect, and the pain is searing, sharp, hot as the saurian's breath on her skin as its fangs sink into her arm -- and she screams, can't help it, even as she can see Vossler readying the healing potion -- and time stops:

The storm is gone, the Westersand itself swallowed in the darkness of the void, chill air that crackles with raw power, and Basch at its center. Ashe has a moment to see his face, cold and focused in anger, before he draws the darkness into form around his hands -- and _pushes_ , so that it streams from his hands to strike the saurian in the chest. The void shudders with the impact, and centers itself next around Vossler, the wind rising and shrieking around him before he sends that, too, the scouring gale of the sandstorm, to buffet the saurian back.

Before Ashe can draw breath, if there is even breath to draw in this non-place, Basch is gathering the darkness again. He is no less brutal with it the second time, and Vossler again steps forward on his heels -- eyes flashing with the dry heat lightning of late summer -- to drive the storm once more against their foe. Even a third time they call the elements to their aid, until it seems the void itself is torn open by that raw power, and fire rains down from the sky.

In the fire's wake the desert comes rushing back around them, the howling storm and the blurred sickly light through the clouds -- and the pain of Ashe's crushed arm. She grits her teeth and tries to stifle her whimpers, and then Vossler finishes opening the potion -- like he had never paused in the action, like that entire dizzying display of power had never happened -- as the saurian collapses to the sand at her feet. The cool blue wash of the potion's magick has never been so welcome, as much a blessing as the care in Basch's hands when he reaches her and helps her to stand.

"Are you all right?" he asks. He does not let go immediately, as Vossler would, and Ashe is grateful.

Whatever they have done has stilled even the storm momentarily, but the wind is rising again, and Ashe raises her voice to be sure they both hear: "Teach me to use that power."

"Gods willing," Vossler says, "you will never need it." He stands impatiently at attention, like a mastiff that does not quite strain at the leash.

"Gods willing," Ashe retorts, "I would never have needed to take up arms at all. I find myself hesitant to trust in the benevolence of the gods." She holds his gaze, squinting against the wind, until he looks down -- then, and only then, does she let go of Basch's arm and step forward. "We can speak of it later. You know where we can find shelter?"

Vossler nods. "This way," he says. He turns away, and Ashe and Basch follow his lead.

The wind pulls at their clothes, sand scouring their skin anywhere it's exposed, but they encounter no other monsters before they find shelter -- a cave, or perhaps even an entrance to the caverns, dark inside but still when they've managed a little distance from the cave mouth. Ashe is following Vossler, with Basch behind her, and the dim light is just enough for her to see it when he stumbles, when he goes heavily to his knees.

"Vossler!" she says, and is at his side before he can try to recover. "What's wrong?"

"The quickening," Basch says, and Ashe thinks she can hear his voice shake. "It is an attack of desperation. Vossler is -- we are _both_ \-- far from our peak."

Ashe looks back at him, her hands on Vossler's shoulder, on his arm. "What do you need?" she asks.

"Time," Vossler says. "Had we more resources to spare, an ether. But do not trouble yourself. We will recover."

Basch comes to his aid, taking Vossler's other arm, and together they help him stand. "You should not have to deprive yourself so," Ashe says. She steps closer, when she can feel him trying to release her, slides her arm around his waist. "I could ill afford to lose you."

"Your majesty," Vossler says. He is tense at her side, holding still; Ashe looks from him to Basch, and back again.

"Vossler," Ashe says. She reaches out to hold Basch where he is, and then stretches up, catching Vossler's hair and pulling him down for a kiss.

He nearly resists her. It is only reluctantly that he bends toward her, that he holds still for the press of her mouth -- and still, he pulls away too soon. "You --" he begins. "This is --"

"This is not the place," Basch says gently, "nor the time, to discuss it."

"There is nothing to discuss," Vossler protests. "This is not --"

"Please," Ashe interrupts, and he falls silent. "Please, Vossler."

He takes a deep breath, shaky, and lets it out again. "This way," he says, pulling away from them both. "We should be able to return to our camp through the caverns."

Vossler starts down the tunnel, and Ashe looks from him to Basch. "Give him time," Basch says. "He has not refused."

"Thank you," Ashe says, and takes his hand as they turn to follow Vossler into the dark, toward their camp -- toward refuge.


End file.
